


Masochist Drabbles

by Firethekitty



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Gore, im sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-12
Updated: 2014-10-12
Packaged: 2018-02-20 22:21:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2445230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firethekitty/pseuds/Firethekitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lots of Bipper self-torture drabbles. If any of you have requests, I'll try them out!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Masochist Drabbles

**Author's Note:**

> This one is Bipper having some fun with a blender and a knife. Major warnings for blood, gore, vomit, torture for this chapter. Not for the faint of heart.

Sparks of electricity shot out of the outlet as Bill plugged the machine in. He looked at the old, dull blender sitting on the counter, smiling widely. He slowly lowered his hand into the blender, shaking from the excitement.

He pressed in the power button, the machinery roaring to life as the sharp blades began spinning at amazing speeds. Bill's finger caught the tip of one of the blades, instantly cutting into his flesh. Even though it was blunt, it could still do a decent amount of damage. He let out a ragged screech of pleasure as the blender mauled his index finger into painful slices and cuts. He lowered the rest of his unfortunate digits into the rotating blades. His hand was bleeding profusely, each cut wound oozing dark red liquids. The blades came to an abrupt halt at the finger bones, making Bill disappointed.

He raised his hand and lowered it again, the blades cutting deep into the skin, but still stopping at the strong bone. Bill bared his teeth in anger and picked up the blender with his uninjured hand. He pelted it at the floor, putting a tiny dent in the cheap plastic surrounding the interior.

"Stupid human contraptions! How dare you tease me," he growled at it, frantically searching through the drawers for something to finish the job. He pulled out a very threatening kitchen knife, touching it to his finger. He slowly cut it into his skin, drooling in pleasure when it drew blood almost instantly.

"Perfect," he groaned, laying his hand on the counter and raising the knife high up. He took a deep breath. And brought it down with such force that it dug right into the bone on his index finger.

Bill cried out, smiling wickedly as his finger hung on by a thread. Tears welled up in his eyes and his mouth flooded over with sweet-tasting saliva. He drooled all over the counter, his stomach churning from the unbearable pain being intentionally inflicted upon the poor boy's body. He cut into his finger again, this time slicing it clean off his hand. It spurted blood like a fountain, finally making Bill spew up a watery vomit onto the floor.

He gasped for breath, salvia pouring out of his mouth. He threw up another liter of bile, sputtering and coughing and spitting out mucus. He suddenly felt exhausted, barely cutting into his middle finger with a single, pitiful cut downwards.

"It's just a little finger. Jeez, human bodies are pathetic," he grumbled, carelessly tossing the bloodied kitchen knife onto the floor. He looked down at his work, smiling widely. His whole hand was stained red; one finger missing and the others suffering from quite a few severe slices down to the bone. He tried wiggling his stump, giggling at the sight.

"Poor Pine Tree, such a shame," he spoke sarcastically, searching through the drawers again. This time he found a rusty screwdriver. Bill rose it over his amputated finger stump and shoved it into the mangled skin. The edge could barely get itself into the cavity, scraping up against the bone as it nudged its way deeper into the flesh. He took the tool out, then shoved it back in again. After a while a hole formed in his digit, once again dribbling blood like a broken fountain. He started grating the skin off the bone, the terrible sound of an instrument cutting deep into him rattled his brain.

Finally, what once was a finger was now a stripped down bone sticking out of shredded, bloody flesh. Bill was quite proud of his work, giggling madly when he rubbed his other fingers over the sliced up material. He glanced back over at the kitchen knife, thinking about cutting **ALL** of Dipper's fingers off. He smirked, picked up the utensil, and got back to work.


End file.
